


In Beauty and In Death

by Lillithan



Category: In the Bleak Midwinter (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety triggers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - My Lost Youth, Multi, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, fluff as a plot device, lightly beta'd, slight D/s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28964055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillithan/pseuds/Lillithan
Summary: There was nothing beautiful or angelic in the way the green of her eyes were lost in the inky darkness of her pupils.  In how the pale yellow strands of her hair would somehow lose their shine with each gasped breath.  She was not beautiful in death, not nearly as beautiful as she was in life.
Relationships: Ivan/Anya, Omega/Anya
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. Part: One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: In The Bleak Midwinter and its characters do not belong to me.... and sometimes the plot doesn't as well. 
> 
> I have attempted to keep the characterizations of these characters as true to canon as possible. While they are the ‘current’ presumed canon couple I’ll say this is as close to canon as I can get without crawling into the creators minds and using that knowledge. :) This is (at the time being) a 3 part piece... that may change. 
> 
> Lightly beta’d, if there are errors I apologize. Otherwise I dearly hope you enjoy the wreckage of my mind.

  
  


**Part: One**

* * *

**_“Look up--”_ **

**_“Look towards the sky, wolf.”_ **

* * *

  
  


In the soft pink hues of the approaching sunset the world appears to sleep. Silent and unchanging it is now in its post war hush. But even in silence it is also beguiling and menacing. Beyond the mangled buildings with their splintered walls and exposed wires there is a new threat growing in the ranks of the natural world. A new order, one would say, that has come to ‘protect’ what humanity had failed to protect. Chosen and beholden with a purpose written into their internal code, to act as the world's neural pathway of true righteousness and justice. They can not fail as they are infallible unlike the humans that came before. And yet in their egotism the world they seek to protect, suffers. 

For a moment the near constant clouds part, allowing a brief glimpse of the true sky above. Exposing the purity of the blue as it bleeds into hues of pink. Light bouncing brightly against the cloud cover, gifting the desolate world with an extraordinary view of its radiance. And just as quickly as it began the beauty of the sky falls back behind the cover of clouds. Unknown and unseen.

Gentle swirls of snow drift peacefully against a horizon of destruction. Standing sentry in the midst of it is a lone figure. Glittering blue eyes scan the horizon for any friend or foe. And yet while his body is poised lazily, arms crossed and shoulder leaned against the remains of what once was a hospital. The internal musings of this man are anything but.

Luminescent blue dim to obsidian black as he turns his gaze toward the skyline. Watching in muted silence the dancing of the beams of light before they disappear behind the clouds. Analyzing everything he sees from the colors and textures to the obscure wind speeds that push and pull the poisoned air. Always watching, looking and waiting for… something. Vexed that he can never seem to find what he’s supposed to be looking for. Frustrated, his gaze moves to his wrist, the pinnacle of (he presumes) of what bothers him.

It had been 126 cycles since the numbers on his wrist stopped their endless fluttering of the continuous countdown to the darkened and smeared X’s he once wished they’d stay. The one obvious sign of his greatest flaw, his ‘soul number’, his _weakness_. Taking a moment to peel back the leather at his wrist, his eyes gaze at the bright numerals. So many times had he attempted to cut these out of his wrist to remove from himself the flawed code, the error of what would never be. And yet always to be aggrieved when they would return with each regeneration of his flesh. 

He was not human. He had not been human for a very long time, if he ever had been. And yet, they still remain. Always persistent in his torment, in this joke of fate. If he was one to believe in fate, he certainly would never believe that he could have ever been tied to something as pathetic as a mortal woman. Perpetually defective. Tied in the pitiful irony that was this life. In the end it was just easier to cover it up and ignore the rotation of pain with each rotation of life. Although, the mystery as to the cycling death of his soul mate was no more understood by himself than her sudden appearance all those cycles ago. And yet… it had left a lasting mark on him that he was resistant to acknowledge. 

Killing her had originally been nothing more than eliminating yet another human target. The added benefit was that it had also removed that blasted number from his person. Strangely, she had been far more resilient to eliminate as he had first thought. And far more stubborn as she grew into this new life of hers. Her continued efforts to ‘talk humanity out of the war with machines’ were frustratingly... droll. And yet, she persisted. Often successfully and just as often with her warmth seeping into the ground beneath her.

And this brought a strange dichotomy of, dare he say, _feelings_ to his chest. Ending a humans’ life was neither exciting, nor painful to him by any means. And yet, watching her face seize in death was something he profoundly did not like. There was nothing beautiful or angelic in the way the green of her eyes were lost in the inky darkness of her pupils. In how the pale yellow strands of her hair would somehow lose their shine with each gasped breath. She was not beautiful in death, not nearly as beautiful as she was in life. 

The narrowing of his eyes was the only outward change to his countenance. Nevertheless, the air around him chose then to still to the small wisps of a breeze that barely feathered the ends of his snow white hair. 

It was that thought in which he was bothered. _He found her beautiful._ And for the first time in a long while, Omega was outright annoyed with the wanton thoughts of his own mind. 

Pushing away from the crumbling wall, he turned his back on the horizon. This faulty thought would not affect him, nothing had changed. 

He _was not_ changed.

  
  


~*~ 

  
  


Humans, in general, give off a varying degree of sound. From the natural sounds of life; breathing, walking, etc. to the sounds of human _life_. In addition to, the near constant thrum of generators, the dim hum of the overhead fluorescent lights, and the environmental noise that goes along with it all. Living in the old underground tunnels came with a multitude of excess… noise. The echoes of human life mixing with the varying sounds of water and empty corridors created little more than a bleak atmosphere.

It was also dark. 

Brightly lit rooms were far and few between, typically reserved for areas where light was mandatory. The infirmary, war room and mess hall were typically as well lit as a room came. The rest, however, were ideal metaphors to what humanity had become. 

Shadows of life.

The flickering of the fluorescent lights offer little in the way of boosting a person's moral any further than cautiously morose. An emotion that Anya has had more than enough experience with already in her twenty-five years. Which is why she finds herself so desperate some days to escape. Understanding deep within her heart that this feeling is what also led her to Dreamscape. The subconscious need to avoid her grief in order to move on with her life. A hope she is uncertain if that was her original goal. Her heart was… _is_ still so fractured that getting through a day can be difficult.

Today, after her underground world settles into the routine of silence. She watches and she waits. Looking for the moment when the watchful eyes that are all around her shift their focus on to something else. It's in that brief lull of awareness that she moves. Quickly and carefully she eases through the passages, knowing where to step to keep her footsteps from echoing too loudly; advancing along what seems like miles of forgotten subterranean waterways. Her hands tenderly grazing the algae covered walls and handrails, striving to keep her mind grounded and focused. 

This route she knows by heart now. Knowing how to sneak by the several checkpoints scattered inconspicuously throughout the corridors. Almost as well as she knows who is willing to turn a blind eye to her simply walking past, and who won't.

Everyone has their demons here, she’s no different from them in that sense. 

And yet, as the bitter air of aboveground hits her nose; she is still without her peace. Wrapping her arms around her torso she gazes around the decimated building of her escape route. Eyes drawn to the shattered remains of what she can only assume was once an office building. She can almost feel the residual emotions of these objects as if they call out to her. Whispering in her ear about the tragedies that occured, the lives that had been forever changed and the blood that still coats the floors.

It's still as new to her as it was four months ago. It's still as horrifying. 

The cold is so much more bitter the closer she comes to the broken walls, causing her nose to wrinkle for a moment before she lifts a hand to rub some warmth back into it. Her feet taking her across the dilapidated building toward the skyline she knows is ‘safe’. Or at the very least, safe by Ivan’s standards. Remembering the understanding that had come to his eyes weeks prior, Anya smiles softly. He had led her here without word, simply showing her and allowing her to trot quietly behind. Giving her a gift she never anticipated. An escape. 

Eyes carefully trained to look out for any enemies, be that organic, machine or simply a rotten floorboard. She hates falling to her death. That’s the absolute worst. It's in the seconds where her brain actually catches up with what is happening only moments before the sick squelch of her internal organs as she connects with the ground below. To the frantic knowledge that death is coming milliseconds before it does. And the brief agony superimposed by the high level of endorphins of a dying body. 

Delicately, she continues moving forward and upward. Breath coming in small pants as she begins to move quicker, her desperation to get out crashing over her in waves of anxiety. She simply needs to see the sky, the horizon… she needs to feel light that is not man made on her face.

The last door to the rooftop practically bangs open with her forceful shove. It's only at the last minute she has a mind to grab it roughly before she lets the entirety of the city's current populace know she’s outside.

Falling to her knees Anya’s body shakes in barely repressed shivers from the anxiety she endured to get here.

“37, 36, 35, 34…” She counts softly easing her mind back from the endless darkness of walls far too close, and feeling the nervous tension untwist its fingers from her lungs. 

Eyes opening to the destroyed cityscape before her, it's now in its silence that she finds beauty. The thick blanket of snow that mostly lays undisturbed. Coating her surroundings with the majesty of tiny crystals that glimmer in the setting sun. 

But it's also the silence that's a stark reminder of how alive the city had once been.

Unsteady steps bring her nearly to the edge of the rooftop. The wind is stronger up here as the gusts push and pull her across the roof. Emerald eyes gaze across the buildings and roads she once knew as a thriving metropolis. The scene is almost picturesque. Nearly tranquil with the absence of color. And yet her heart aches for the loss of life that is both seen and unseen. The world is frozen in time showing more of the horror that occurred with each passing glance. So much of her world has changed, though there are parts that still appear in a state of eternal slumber. 

It's not long before Anya can feel the winds biting chill start to sting her cheeks. The pain is a constant reminder that she is alive. That she’s still human. Even if most days, she doesn’t feel that way. The idea of her own fragile mortality is now missing, a gaping hole in her own humanity. However, she strives to fill it with the burning desire to fix whatever went wrong. A gift and a curse in her ability to survive, tied somehow to the beings that have now taken up her home.

The halting grasp that she has on her jacket loosens with the final steps to the edge. From here she can hear the howling of the winds both below and above her signaling that the world is still moving forward. The unfathomable concept in her organic mind that time never stops. 

  
  


* * *

**“Anya, you** **_will_ ** **know...”**

  
  


**“The universe itself has** **_bound you_ ** **.”**

* * *

  
  


Memories flash behind her green eyes, remembering another time and place. Her mother’s gently spoken words come to her. Always gently coaxing. Always soothing. And for a moment she wonders what her mother would have thought of where Anya’s life has brought her. A relic from a time of little worry to a woman paired by the universe to an android man.

Turning her gaze from the destruction she looks toward the invisible sky. Watching the movements of the clouds unaware that she has begun to hum. Words long forgotten, but the melody still remains. 

  
  


~*~ 

  
  


_…”There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die: There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye, And the words of that fatal song, Come over me like a chill: “A boy’s will is the wind’s will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts…”_

The crunch of footsteps in the freezing snow is the only sound on the empty streets. Allowing his thoughts to wander in the background and bringing _her_ back to the forefront of his mind. Reflecting once more on the enigma that she has become. Once a lost and naive young woman, troubled to the core and surrounded by a bubble of ignorance. To now a perpetual thorn in his side no longer surrounded by her ignorance but a fiery passion.

Her juxtaposed position in his life tearing to ruin everything he had once held true. His soulmate. A concept he once believed was little more than granting humans unrealistic expectations, by encouraging their fears that they were not ‘whole’. For them a truth he supposes, but for him an outright fallacy. 

A mental battle that Omega, frustratingly, cannot seem to annihilate with the evidence written plainly on his wrist. Worse though, that in these weakest of moments, he wonders if perhaps she _is_ his missing piece. That perhaps, if all he needed to do was look toward her and not the sky. Admittedly, he can accept that he is unquestionably drawn to her. A fact that Delta has commented on more than once. That her presence is akin to a beacon calling out to him, guiding him to her side begrudgingly… and annoyingly.

And thus, when he feels the gentle pulse in his wrist he is not surprised when the direction of his footfalls change. Leading him across time and war's damaged detritus, through death filled streets, and toward an empty low level building. Pulsing, encouraging him to glide up broken stairs and through the rooftop exit. His feet carrying him quietly across the fallen snow only to pause when a serene sound catches his attention. A gentle melody on the wind. Prompting him to pause, listen and watch from afar. 

Gaze unwavering, he watches her lift her arms above her head in an almost embrace with the sky. Observing the golden strands dance behind her in the arms of the wind, he refuses the notion that he’s entranced. He looks on as she spins her body precariously close to the edge, unknowingly or irrationally ignoring the drop beside her. Dark eyes taking in the fluid movements of a woman as his hand twitches idly at his side. 

Slowly, gracefully her twirls come to an end and just as quietly as he appeared, Omega now begins his retreat. Completing whatever bizarre ritual his soul mark continuously asks of him. Turning to leave with a final glance across the expanse between them. He chooses to leave her to her own musings and devices, he has no need to collect her today.

But fate is a deceitful thing. His final fleeting glance strikes true and brilliantly green eyes lock on to his in shocked awareness. 

  
  


He watches as she slips and falls.

  
  



	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...He’s a trained killer. Not devoid of emotion, but a wary understanding that there is a time and place for such. He’s also an android in every aspect of the description. And yet, standing here with her in his arms, he’s reminded that he is also a man...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ever grateful for the comments, critic and kudos. While not required, they are and will always be appreciated. Without further ado… part two. Lightly beta’d.

Part: Two

_“Baby, baby, rock-a-bye_

_Baby, baby, rock-a-bye_

_On the edge you mustn’t lie_

_Or the little grey wolf will come_

_And will nip you on the tum,_

_And will nip you on the tum_

_Tug you off into the wood…”_

* * *

  
  


In the end, she wouldn’t have turned had she not heard the crunch of snow from Omega’s retreat. 

  
  


Green eyes dart over her shoulder catching a glimpse of white. The thrumming in her wrist tells her all she needs to know, and she wonders how long he has been standing there. Boot covered feet slide against the slick concrete of the ground beneath as her body follows the rotation of her eyes. The powder pressed snow sliding against the icy building under her boots and it's with very little movement that Anya in mid turn… slips. 

  
  


She watches as his usually inexpressive dark eyes widen and flash blue the moment she falls off the roof. A startled yelp ripping from her throat the second gravity takes hold and tugs her back to the earth. Her hands reached ineffectively for the broken metal railing hanging limply against the building. There is little room for any other emotion than pure terror as it fills her body with its bitter response. Nevertheless, her hands continue to dart out grasping desperately at anything beside the air to save her from gravity's unforgiving grasp.

  
  


Omega reacts without further thought. In the span of a breath, he is across the building and swinging his body over the edge. His right hand anchored against the crumbling edge, fingers sinking into the concrete just enough to hold his weight and momentum. A scream finally tears from her throat only to be cut short as luminescent blue eyes are suddenly before her. His left hand reaches out and latches on to Anya’s waist, yanking her into his arms as he continues to swing them from open sky to back onto solid ground. Mind still wrapped in terror as strong arms catch her, Anya’s breath shudders from her. Omega folds her securely into his arms, her own arms desperate for safety wrap around his torso, her face quickly buried in his neck. 

  
  


Holding on tightly, Anya’s fingers dig into his jacket as the pendulum motion forces the air from her lungs in a horrific parody of a rollercoaster. Pain blooms in her flank even as coherent thought ceases to exist. And will not resume until her heart rate regains its normal beat. Swathed in the protective warmth of her soulmate’s arms, Anya shakes. The overload of emotions rattling her so much she doesn’t notice him landing roughly back on the roof. Crouched low, Omega adjusts his hold on her small body. Where prior she had been effectively wrapped around him, he shifts her more bridal into his arms before standing. His hands (heart) refuse to release her before he moves away from the edge and across the roof. However, he still does not release her until he has them both safely secured inside the building. 

  
  


And yet, even within the dark safety of the building, she does not pull away and he does not force her to move. The arms encircling her torso remain unyielding allowing her moments of respite to soothe her fractured emotions. But also, peculiarly, this time fuels her curiosity about the man she’s being held by. His body is _warm_ , she doesn’t know why this surprises her but it does. Perhaps the thought that his hybrid creation had given her the idea that he would be as cold to the touch as frozen stone. That he would be harsh and unyielding, foreign to her awareness and even as cold as death. And yet it's a natural warmth, a mortal warmth that settles the fear within her chest and thaws the chill of her windburned cheeks. The mark on her wrist thrums in the background of her awareness all the while she is enveloped in his arms. 

  
  


His warmth isn’t the only aspect of him that shakes her awareness, but also that he smells clean almost with a touch of petrichor. There is a level of earthiness to how he smells, a musky nearly sweet fragrance. Unconsciously, she burrows her nose deeper against his neck and breathes. The scent of him settles her mind and relaxes the tension from her muscles. She is tranquil for the first time in years and it's in the arms of a killer. The irony isn’t missed by her but in her current state, she can’t quite find a reason to care. It's a peace her soul has been missing for too long and she wants to absorb as much of it as she can before it's yanked from her again.

  
  


In this stillness her mind wanders. Dangerously curious to how things might have been had the world not been so fractured around them. Short figmented musings all the while waxing poetic descriptions of lives never to be lived. Her nose still firmly tucked under his chin and against his neck her mind continues to dissolve in the romantic notions. Fully knowing these thoughts are fruitless but unable to stop the surge of thoughts once they began.

  
  


_\--Hair like freshly fallen snow teasing the corners of obsidian grey eyes as musical fingers that gently weave through her hair, combing through the golden locks, tenderly cupping her cheek and drawing her attention upward. Desire burning sharply within his dark gaze--_

  
  


Red infusing her cheeks at the wantonness of her mind, Anya glaces up from inside his embrace. If only to recommit the truth of his cold stare and put to rest the desire her mind's eye wishes to substitute. Luminescent eyes gaze back down at her, slowly shifting back to their obsidian black. There is an imperceptible moment where she feels his arms tighten before calmly setting her on her feet and pulling away. His warmth moving away and leaving her to the cold of the outside world. All the while, the silence of his gaze remains focused on her face. She feels suddenly alone once more, wanting nothing more than to step back into the circle of his arms. Her body swaying minutely toward him, unconsciously driven to be back inside that protective circle. 

  
  


He’s a trained killer. Not devoid of emotion, but a wary understanding that there is a time and place for such. He’s also an android in every aspect of the description. And yet, standing here with her in his arms, he’s reminded that he is also a man. Sensations that he refuses to justify with acknowledgment begin to forcibly make their presence known. He is viciously entranced with the spun gold of her hair shimmering with each quiet breath. Silky strands that would flow from his fingers with little encouragement. He doesn’t know when he begins to unconsciously observe her, the way the dimming light plays against her features. The freckles remind him of stars, his hand twitching to touch them. Would it be like touching the stars? And the serene aura that she quietly projects, nestled in the circle of his arms. He knows the moment she shifts to examine him, his eyes meeting hers his own curiosity peaked at the dusting of red across her cheeks. 

  
  


The intimacy of the moment is not missed by him. His hesitancy to remove her from his arms is only alarming in how strong the desire to keep her there _is_ . The slight weight of her body is a new type of comfort in his arms. A sense of purpose and need that blooms below his heart, striking him unaware of the unconscious way his grip tightens. Only then does the rational side, his realist core, the inhuman part of him, vehemently remind him that she is _human_ . His path has always been set in empirical code. He has no time to dwell on the facetiousness of desire, need or _want_. He has a path and he will not deter. 

  
  


Still, with gentleness not often used, Omega sets her on her feet. Uncomfortable with the intimacy of his thoughts he retreats a safe distance back to grab his own humanity and shove it back into the furthest corner of his mind. Desperate to return the balance back in its proper order. The delicate red blush of her cheeks forgotten for the moment to be possibly remembered another time, in another place. 

  
  


The silence between them is near deafening. It feels like an eternity before Anya lifts her gaze and stares silently at the man before her. Briefly wondering when she started to associate him as a man and no longer a threat. Watching his blank expression for any clues to the thoughts that must pass through his mind. Seeing only slight changes in the way his pupils expand and narrow before he comes to some sort of completion in thought. And it's before she can eke out a soft ‘thanks’, he begins to turn, evident in his movements that he intends to leave. 

  
  


“Wait!” the word bursts from her throat, her hand reaching quickly to stay his departure. 

  
  


His form pauses, but his face remains turned away from her. Any expression hidden away in the safety of both distance and shadow. 

  
  


“Tha… thank you.” She both wants to give her thanks and keep him here with her. She’s grown tired of watching him walk away.

  
  


Softly his voice penetrates the shadows around them. “Perhaps you should reserve dancing for the ground floor.” 

  
  


The attempt at a scathing remark falls flat as it merely encourages a small smile to Anya’s lips. A gentle twisting of sardonic humor while she tilts her head toward him. 

  
  


“How did you know I was here?”

  
  


Half turning toward her, he lifts his arm but doesn’t bother with the lowering of his cuff. The bright light of his soul number is easily visible regardless. 

  
  


Drawn to the glow of his wrist, the twin to her own she wonders if the thrumming sensation is shared. Unconsciously, curiously her small hand reaches out across the distance to touch his soulmark. Expression softening, the soft pads of her fingertips caress the numerals. The sensation grounding her, bringing her back and yet tugging at her mind in an undeniable need to feel more. Unbeknownst that with each gentle press Omega's eyes darken. Her warm mortal touch releasing a torrent of electricity rushing through his form. Tied like an invisible string to her own glowing mark.

  
  


Gently, carefully he pulls his hand away from her tender touch. Ending with it the racing of his own heart at the familiarity of their contact. Scowling at the warmth left behind from her fingers, Omega ponders at the ease in which she continues to get underneath his skin. Leaving him feeling the rush of fidgety energy, he forces his hands to simply straighten his sleeve before clenching tightly at his side. 

  
  


It is rare that he feels lost in his own skin. Confused by the emotions that swarm his mind and render his logic silent. The lack of control of the moment baffles and horrifies him, it makes him feel ‘human’. But even as the feeling is foreign it is also… comforting. _Warming_. And it takes him by surprise. 

  
  


“Your melody sounded familiar. What was it?” 

  
  


Demuring softly, Anya breathes a soft sigh her face turning toward the exit back outside. “It was a lullaby my mother used to sing to us children.” Turning her gaze back to him, her expression remains carefully neutral. “It was a warning. To stay away from the edge…” Her expression remains guarded, however her voice cracks faintly. “Or the grey wolf would steal us away.”

  
  


She doesn’t anticipate the way the air around them seems to still. How his dark eyes, shadowed by the fringe of his hair seem to sharpen. And when he moves so suddenly to completely face her once more, she only then realizes how still he had been. Gasping in surprise, her hand flutters to rest above her heart as if to slow its nervous beating.

  
  


_Lies._ The word repeats itself in his mind, over and over. Wrapping around the still delicate flutters of an emotion and viciously attempting to destroy the sensation. She is lying to him. _Has_ to be lying to him. _Or_ .. she has been lying to him this entire time. _Lies._ The way her eyes dart to his in hesitancy, the way her heart beats faster. He can smell the fear just these few steps away. The futility of the emotion in his chest tears at him, the lack of understanding hinders his logical thoughts. There is a sadness in her eyes that he is a witness too but he doesn’t understand it. Vapid, tiring and insipid… it matters not. 

  
  


She is weak. Flawed. _Human…_ Was the destruction of this world not enough, that she seeks to rend him apart as well?

  
  


Closing the distance to her, his voice resonates dominance in its smooth and sensuous tones. Dark eyes flash at her from beneath his bangs, his stature remains empowering and yet he leans ever so slightly toward her. Sensing. Hunting. He is everything of his epithet, “wolf”.

  
  


“Is that what you want, Anya? Do you want the big bad wolf to steal you away from the _edge_ ? Do you want an excuse to give in? _To cave_ . To ignore the duality of your self righteous feelings with your own selfishness? To grieve with you over this missed destiny. Or. Do you want me to _tempt_ you?” 

  
  


Her quiet gaze radiates determination as she has to cock her head up just to keep eye contact. “But, haven’t you taken me? I was on that edge and I fell. And Omega, you came. You _saved_ me. You didn’t have to. I would have died and I would have come back, possibly. There is no duality in this, in our destiny. I know how I feel. Do you?”

  
  


The smile that twists his lips is dark, twisting with it a fire that burns low in her belly. “I am not your absolution, Anya.”

  
  


Transfixed, Anya whispers. “No. You are my soulmate.”

  
  


Anticipation floods her system at the first caress of his breath against her cheek. Her breathing stutters with the startling weight of his hands on her sides. The warmth that is once more encircling her, coaxing her back into his embrace. She can no longer deny the chemistry, the yearning that grabs at her heart when he is near. This is not love, but desire. The burning intensity that threatens to engulf them both with one wrong move. 

  
  


His voice is breathless, rasping softly in the shell of her ear, “You fear me.” 

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


“You desire me.”

  
  


“I…” Shuddering, Anya struggles to pull air into her lungs. Her hands lift to smooth over the stiff cotton of his dress shirt, curling in response to the soft graze of his lips against her jaw. Emerald eyes blink rapidly, attempting to connect the question with an answer. Only to fail completely with the sound of his course chuckle in her ear. 

  
  


“This, Anya, is not ‘destiny’. But--” His voice lowers, huskily rumbling against the soft hairs of her cheek. “--But I would be lying to say that the idea wasn’t… alluring.”

  
  


“Omega…”

  
  


The soft exhalation of his name is what breaks the carefully constructed wall around his passion. Greedy in its need to possess, ravish and plunder but also capricious. War roughed hands tighten, gripping her hips firmly before rotating their bodies and pushing her into the closed door. Her ardor vocalized with a sudden cry that tapers off to a moan. Small hands smoothing up over his chest to wrap around his shoulders, her soft panting breaths echoing in the shell of his ear. Easing a knee between her legs and pressing more fully into her, omega drags her roughly up and against him. Drawing a line of friction tantalizing close to where they both are beginning to need it. 

  
  


Her hands are dangerous, he decides as one continues to sweep up and wrap around his neck. Fingers carding through his hair are interspersed with fistfulls of teasing tugs. This sensation alone would have him at her beck and call. Coos and soft sighs breaking past her winter chapped lips create within himself a longing he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

Sensual lips press against where her jaw meets her neck, little hot open mouthed kisses begin their pursuit up along the base of her ear. Where his gruffly whispered words coax the flame of her desire into a fervent need she has never yet experienced. The slap of his palm against the hollow door behind her, both startles and invigorates her. Surrounded by him, his warmth, his desire in the little bubble of longing they have created. 

  
  


Pulling away from the temptation of her neck, his gaze with pupils blown out, lock on to hers as the arm that bares his soul mark rises. Slowly sweeping over her forearm, following the long column of her neck and resting gently against her chin. Relishing every small shudder and shiver of her soft flesh. His thumb teasing the line of her lips, pressing firmly encouraging her to open and draw the digit inside. 

  
  


“Open for me,” She can feel the heat of her blush flush her cheeks at his softly rasped phrase. Unconsciously, the tip of her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip, catching in its quick pass the taste of his digit. Shocking her at the flavor of him, jarring her out of the overwhelming haze of lust.

  
  


“Wait, Omega-- I…”

  
  


His eyes flash briefly, his digit sliding inside and pressing against her lower teeth before pulling away entirely. All other movements stop, his expression focusing on her, waiting for what she is trying to say.

  
  


“Hey, Asshat. Mind removing your hands before I remove them for you?”

  
  


Luminescent eyes flash before her eyes, Anya feels more than sees how Omega’s form freezes instantly. Shame floods her body free of any residual arousal, her gaze darting up to the bright blue eyes watching her. The slight upward snarl of his lip gives her a moment of pause before she tentatively peeks around his protective form. She can’t make out the expression of the man slowly making his way up the final steps. However, the tension in his posture is clear as is the tight grasp he has of the weapon in his hands.

  
  


"Ah. Seems the puppy dog came looking for its master.”

  
  


“Nah, more like saving Little Red from the big bad wolf.”

  
  


“Tsk. Afraid I’ll eat her up?”

  
  


There is a soft click of the weapon being loaded, “I wouldn’t recommend you try. I have no issue snipping the ‘great wolf’.”

  
  


It's a ridiculous scenario that he’s in. Made more obscene by the utter and complete lapse of his self control. Glancing down at the woman, embarrassed and shaking, his mind is suddenly made. _Fuck it all_. Catching her eyes his gaze doesn’t leave hers as he slowly pulls away. Limbs falling away but not without a final caress to her cheek. And so, it's with a guarded glance over his shoulder that he murmurs softly enough for her to hear. 

  
  


And what she hears restarts the flaming blush on her cheeks.

  
  


“We’re not finished. Not even close…”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happy moment in the creation of this chapter was the stumbling upon a traditional russian nursery song. I highly recommend giving it a listen.  
> "bayu bayushki bayu"  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9wrGmsJMw4


End file.
